


When the Jungle Dies

by The Hag (hagsrus)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-05
Updated: 2011-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:05:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hagsrus/pseuds/The%20Hag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After episode Where the Jungle Ends</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Jungle Dies

She was beautiful, that elusive something beyond mere prettiness, so that other men envied him his prize and - well, he'd always enjoyed that. Only with Krivas had it all turned deadly.

Poisonous bastard, he'd murmured, to thrill her with a glimpse of his familiar danger. Looks quite cuddly, she'd said, laughing, and, innocently confident that her beauty could charm and de-fang the deadliest serpent, she'd thrown Krivas a flirtatious smile across the crowded bar.

He'd been so bloody young and stupid. Too stupid, too cowardly to let himself know what he really wanted. Should never have gone flaunting her like that, using her to reassure himself of his own triumphant masculinity, heedless of her safety among those predators. And now that he did know, here he was still hoping, or perhaps fearing, that the next girl would be the one to snap him out of it, permanently wrenching him into the world's acceptable pattern.

"I loved her." He whispered the words aloud and wondered. Had it been anything more than another hopeful infatuation that for once hadn't had time to cool? The jungle of submerged lingering rage and blind certainty of ultimate revenge that had bound all those memories together for so long had suddenly withered and unravelled when Krivas had been led away, and now there was only this bitter hollow ache.

"I loved..."

Whatever it had been, she was dead, long dead, her blood forever staining his unwitting hands.

He lay staring into darkness, contemplating another drink to dull his mind, but reluctant to move and rouse the pain of the stiffening bruises. Tomorrow would be soon enough, bad enough, but he'd see Doyle. He'd abandoned his weapons and anything more than token vengeance and redeemed himself with Doyle.

Daft to hope Doyle would ever...

Infatuation. Ugly sod.

Would that cool too if...?

"I love..."

Stupid. But it touched the bitter ache with illusory balm, and sleep came.


End file.
